On our way home from Tucson tonight the Mathematician and I got into a fight with a total stranger.
It started when I accused him of having B.O. We eventually determined that he was not in fact the cause of the smell that was permeating our section of the plane, and began swiveling our heads this way and that to see if we could surreptitiously deduce who was. The blonde girl sitting behind me in Seat 24F thought he was looking at her. She took this as a come on and called him a perv.
Really, it was kind of amazing.
A row-wide battle ensued, involving the two people sitting to the left of the Princess, who took our side, and a verbal confrontation between the Princess and myself. I intervened in an attempt to explain the absurd truth to her, but she just wouldn't stop talking. It was a nightmarish stream of patronizing drivel: "I just feel bad for you," she kept saying, presumably because I am dating a perv. All I could think? What awful planet did you come from and why are you wearing your sunglasses inside?
When the Princess first boarded the plane, I actually felt bad for her: she had some sob story about missing her connection to Providence and how she's getting married in 2 days in Newport. I know I'd be stressed. Retrospectively I see that pity was wasted. This girl is a rare specimen: the kind of entitled asshole who tortures strangers on planes for no reason. The Mathematician even heard the stewardesses bitching about her.
My heart soared with delight when we saw her again from the cab stand, wandering up to limousines and knocking on their doors in the Logan Airport parking lot in search of the car her "fiance" allegedly booked for her. Presumably he was too busy banging a hooker at his bachelor party to come to Boston and collect her himself.
I took this as a valuable, eye-opening lesson: the worst people in the world don't only go to restaurants to torture waitresses. They also fly on planes, torture stewardesses, and pick fights with other blondes. A remarkable experience, if only because it is so drastically beyond the modus operandi of the generally polite public.
I am thrilled to note that it will be raining all week in Newport. Who the hell gets married on a Wednesday, anyway?